hello, can't you hear me?
this isn't my home town
i'm counting all our footsteps
watching the world burn down
rooves of gray and blue
miles of crosshatch trees
i see the ruin gathered in piles
what i expect of autumn leaves
the flag is flown half-staff
looking out across the lake
storms, in all their glory
don't care much about their wake
YOU ARE READING
Serenity - A Journal Of Some Sort
RandomThey tell me that what I create is chaos. But what I create is the only thing that brings me serenity. ~ warning: this book abruptly switches from deep personal narratives to really random stuff so hop on and enjoy the ride
